


Blood of a Devil

by sideofgrima



Series: Chrobin Week 2020 [5]
Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Abuse, F/M, Mind Manipulation, Possession, Risen King Chrom (Fire Emblem)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 07:21:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27169930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sideofgrima/pseuds/sideofgrima
Summary: Day 5 - Fallen & RisenWith the world under Grima's control, Chrom thinks of ways he can escape the Fell Dragon's grip... but as a Risen solider, those decisions aren't up to him.
Relationships: Chrom/My Unit | Reflet | Robin
Series: Chrobin Week 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1979573
Comments: 1
Kudos: 25





	Blood of a Devil

**Author's Note:**

> Frankly, writing things like this makes me sad cause the thought of Chrom and Robin not having a happy end together hurts me physically :(((

“Life’s not fair… is it?”

Grima grabbed hold of the Risen’s chin before her and wrenched his head closer to hers.

“Blood of that damned she-dragon, chosen wielder of her fang… and here you are, in  _ my _ care. I ask you, worm, where is she now?” She dug her nails into his grey skin. “Where is your beloved Naga, now?”

The prince didn’t respond, how could he? The Fell Dragon had forced him to live once again under her control, and thus, he was to answer her every beck and call. But if not given a direct order, he was to remain silent… lest he wanted his mouth sewn shut again.

“I can see in your eyes, princeling, that you wish to say something,” Grima tutted, tracing a nail along the shape of his cold, cracked lips. “Speak, dog.”

“I stay… only for  _ her _ ,” Chrom wheezed through his dead lungs. 

“Augh! Listen to yourself! As if you think you have a choice in your staying here… Perhaps I haven’t made my point yet,” she hissed, before raking her claws across the prince’s face, leaving deep gouges that could not bleed.

Fate was a cruel mistress… but so was Grima. The monster was sick and twisted enough in the fact they reanimated corpses to fight for her, that much was a given. But for those she wanted to keep by her side and make an example of? She made them with the specific detail of being able to feel pain, unlike her horde of undead soldiers. 

Chrom had the misfortune of being one of those ‘special’ cases. Every time Grima raked her claws across his skin? He felt it. Every time she would kick her boots into his stomach or onto his arm? He felt it.

Whenever she would make the point to say that the woman he once loved was dead and was simply used as a puppet? He  _ felt _ it. 

And gods above, did that last one hurt the most. 

“Loathe as I am to admit it, worm, there is something I simply do not understand about you,” Grima whispered into his ear, lifting his head up by his hair. “You’ve endured more torture than any of my other subjects, and yet you continue to persist. Most others simply vanish from this plain after I’m through with them… yet you’re still here. How do you do it? Speak.”

“I stay… for Robin.”

“Tch.”

She let his head fall back to the ground. 

“How many times must I tell you that she’s dead? Or perhaps that’s not what you want to hear?” Grima looked back down at the prince, smirking at his glare. “Oooh, look at you. So much ire… so much  _ hatred _ . Did you know I thrive off that? It’s what keeps me going most days, frankly.”

“...pitiful.”

“Tut, tut. Speaking out of turn once more? I don’t know how you keep doing that but…” With a snap of her fingers, Chrom’s body rose into the air. “Perhaps another lesson is in order!” She waved her hand to the side, which sent him careening into the crumbling wall before him. Before he could register the pain, he was moving again like a ragdoll. Grima tossed him around the room without care of the pillars he smashed through or the walls he collapsed. By the end, a visible grimace was laced on her face.

“Seems… you’re losing steam…” Chrom barely managed to mutter, unable to move his body from the floor.

“Me? Oh, but you’re mistaken. Perhaps I haven’t been completely honest with you,” Grima knelt down beside him. “Your wife is still within me, very much aware of what’s happening around her. Everytime I lay a finger on you? The virile anguish I feel coming from inside me is nauseating. Everyday, she tries her damndest to break the seal and regain control but… you see, your wife is nowhere near strong enough to reclaim this body.”

“Monster…”

“Here’s something else… Let's say she  _ was _ able to take it back. There’d only be one issue,” Grima slowly peeled off her leather gloves, revealing what appeared to be a decaying hand, blackened and sickly. “A human body isn’t meant to contain the power of a god. The longer I’m in here, the more corrupted this form gets. By the time she’d ever be strong enough to challenge me, this body would be unusable.”

The Fell Dragon took note of the look on Chrom’s face, or what he was able to emote. “It seems you don’t like the sound of that. Perhaps when I’m done with her body, I’ll reanimate her too. She’d be less than a shambling corpse, but at least you and her would be reunited, yes?”

Chrom didn’t respond… he  _ couldn’t. _ What could he say to a threat like that, since Grima was more bite than she was bark. 

“Now… I think after today, you deserve a special mission,” she hissed as she rose to her feet. “Those damned Ylisseans somehow survived my last attack, and the current Exalt still lives. She’s the last one with your cursed blood… So why don’t you pay her a visit?”

“N-not… Luci…” But his struggles were in vain as he felt Grima’s will overtake his own.

“Let’s put our personal feelings aside for today, shall we? I want her dead. By your hands. If you fail, the punishment will be severe. Am I clear?”

“Crys… tal.”

Once again, the Fell Dragon took control over his body, sending him out the doors of her throne room and out into the desert sands below. As he was forced to walk, a horde of other Risen appeared behind him, all under the same puppeteer as him.

Their march on Ylisstol would be long and grueling, yet all Chrom could think about was how he could struggle out of Grima’s control. Yet every option he could think of was impossible. Killing the Fell Dragon required him having enough will to overcome her, which he had been notably unsuccessful in doing. Perhaps Lucina could kill her, but that would mean getting his daughter anywhere near Grima… which, in the few years since her rise to power, hadn’t even come close to happening. 

Though perhaps he could simply resist her. He’d done it before… but surely not long enough to make a difference. 

So in the end, he prayed to any god that would hear him that  _ something _ would release him from this hellhole.

But what a fool he felt like after.

Since they’d be abandoned by any god willing to listen.

  
  



End file.
